


Just stay with me (honey don't you leave)

by natcat5



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Small Towns, city AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natcat5/pseuds/natcat5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone told Sora <i>that city eats people.</i> </p>
<p>Someone told Kairi <i>bad things happen there.</i> </p>
<p>Someone told Riku <i>people get lost there,</i> and it was the best thing he ever heard.</p>
<p>
  <strike>"And I remember ‘Baby, come home’"</strike>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just stay with me (honey don't you leave)

**Author's Note:**

> continuing the trend of posting things I never intended to post because I want you guys to know I have been writing nonstop the past few months but just not posting anything.

“You’re not leaving are you?” asks Sora, the light from the setting sun casting his face into hues of orange and pink, blue eyes shadowed beneath his scrunched brow.

Riku shrugs. Once, twice. Brushes a strand of hair away from his face.

“Besides,” continues Sora, a hint of forced laughter in his tone, a nervous smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Where would you go?”

Riku’s eyes slide towards Sora, blue-green and impenetrable, before turning back to gaze outwards, over the sea of rooftops, past the empty fields, and to the smudge of darkness on the horizon.

\--

They were each an only child. In a town full of families with up to five kids or more, with small armies of bruised knees and dirty hands to help in the fields and in the house, this was nothing short of an anomaly.

With Kairi, it was acceptable. She was adopted, and her father was a single man in a political office. He had no need for a legion of children, nor did he have the means to produce them. Adoption was a drawn out, often messy affair, and the only reason Kairi had fallen into his arms was because of the extraordinary circumstances under which she had arrived in town. The Mayor had probably never intended to have children, but doted on his single daughter as best he could, providing everything but companionship.

With Riku, it was a tragedy. A string of miscarriages in the family. A near divorce as a result. A child finally born with both parents in their forties. A child protected closely, coveted, isolated, smothered. Homeschooled and locked up tight. To protect him, they assured fervently, to protect him.

With Sora, it was, people suspected, a temporary thing. His parents were both very young. Flighty, foolish things. Owning neither farm nor shop, but working for the farms and shops of others. They had gone away on a honeymoon that lasted near a year, and returned with their infant son, swaddled tight and staring in wonder at the tiny, dusty town he’d been brought to. At five years old, he was still their only child. But it was, people assumed, only a matter at time.

At five years old, Sora is left to his own devices more often than not. Left in the care of the stay-at-home mothers on the street when his own parents go to work. Free to run and play with the other children and their siblings. Wakka and his younger twin brothers. Tidus and his older sister, his older brother already out on the farms. Selphie, desperate for friends now that all of her siblings were either in the fields or in a shop, working for wage. They are all his playmates, until such time as their mothers call them inside, and he is left on the curb, waiting for his own mother to come home.

Riku, on the other side of town, is kept inside glass walls. Face pressed against the window, before his mother pulls him off of it, telling him sharply to be wary of germs. Staring, staring. Always staring outwards to places he can’t reach.

Kairi, in the care of nannies while her father works, will go for strolls around the downtown, but with her caretaker’s hand clasping her own firmly, and her gaze steered away from the neighborhoods where shrieks of playing children echo. She is lonely, but obedient. Or, she tries to be.

The three of them meeting, each alone in their own way, is not so much unlikely as impossible. But on a rare day, in which Sora’s mother takes him along while she buys fresh produce at the market, and loses sight of him within ten minutes. In which Kairi’s nanny is distracted by a glittering necklace, allowing the restless child to slip away. In which Riku, six years old and already with the beginnings of a momentous temper and severe claustrophobia, has escaped through a window and run as far as his legs can carry him.

In which they meet, Kairi hiding underneath an empty shop cart, hoping to avoid detection. Riku scrambling beneath, seeking shade from the sun. And Sora last, the soccer ball he had been carrying having rolled under it, and he on all fours with the intention to follow.

It goes like this:

Kairi crouches, arms around her knees, dress dirty. Riku, panting and sweaty, scrambles underneath the cart, not noticing her at all. She shrieks, and he looks at her in faint alarm.

-What are you doing under here? I was here first!

-…It’s hot outside. I’ve been running.

-What are you running from? Is there something chasing you?

-My parents. I’m tired of them.

-…Oh.

…I’m tired of my nanny. I’m not running, but I’m hiding.

-This _is_ a good hiding spot.

-It is, isn’t it?

It’s then that a ball, ratty and with the plastic peeling off, rolls under the cart, right in between them. It is followed, shortly, by a boy with wild brown hair, who bumps his head on the cart with alarming force and falls back with a yelp, eyes screwed shut and hands clutching his forehead.

To his great surprise, this action results in him being yanked beneath the cart amidst cries of ‘be quiet!’ and ‘please, people will notice we’re under here!’

Sora blinks his eyes open, and sees Kairi and Riku for the first time.

“Hi,” he says, because his mother says always to be polite, “I’m Sora.”

\--

First friends are hard to forget, regardless of how the years pass on, and Kairi holds the image of that day in the forefront of her mind, clutching the memory as if it is something sacred.

“I’m not going to hold your hand,” says the man, “And if you get lost in there you’ll be eaten alive. So keep up.”

His tone is not cruel so much as it is chillingly matter of fact, and Kairi nods, solemnly. She is afraid, but that’s not going to stop her from going. From following them.

He had looked apprehensive beforehand, but now he just looks resigned. Hair, a brighter red than hers, pulled back into a tail, and tattoos standing out starkly against the paleness of his face. Dressed all in black, and with, she knows, weapons concealed on his person. A walking stereotype of all she’s been taught to fear. A personification of the dangers of the sprawling mass of monolithic buildings and an endless winding of streets and underground. The city in the distance. Hollow Bastion. The place both her boys disappeared into. The place she is now preparing to enter.

“I’ll keep up,” she swears firmly, and his lips quirk upwards into an unamused smirk.

“You better,” replies Axel, “You’ll die if you don’t.”

\--

“That city eats things,” Wakka’s mother once told him, on one of those days where his parents had gone out on a date to eat and overestimated the amount of leftover food in the fridge, “It eats hopes and dreams and souls and people.”

Sora’s eyes widen, and he imagines the city as a monster, with a mouth gaping open and rows of jagged teeth. He forces himself to stop imagining when he starts hearing the screams of the people it eats. Seeing the faces of those whose hopes have been gobbled away. A life without dreams- the thought is enough to make him shudder.

“Don’t tell stories, Ma,” chastises Wakka, and his mother shoots him a nasty glare, making both of the twins titter.

“That city ate your older brother,” she snaps, “And your father before him. People looking to make more money, get a richer life, live better than in some country hick town. Foolish people.”

Then she turns to Sora, her eyes narrowed, but less angry than desperate and sad.

“Don’t you ever leave here for there, Sora,” she says firmly, “I told Wakka and the little ones this a thousand times, and I’m telling you now. Your parents walked out of that city- didn’t you know? It was a stop on their honeymoon, the fools. And they never gone back. And they never talk about it neither. Your parents seem like absentminded folks, but they weren’t before going there. You ignore what anyone else says; they weren’t like this before going there. You were born in that place, it seems likely, and that’s enough. There’s no need for you to even think about going back. So don’t do it. Only those with the devil’s luck make it out, and the devil’s luck don’t work twice.”

Sora nods, solemnly, but is thankful when Wakka steers the conversation away from the topic. It’s making him uncomfortable, for a variety of reasons.

Years later, when Riku is gone, and they all know to where, Sora will remember that conversation, and frustrated tears will bead in his eyes.

“We can’t do anything now. He’s already gone,” Kairi will say bitterly, angry and betrayed. “When he gets back, he’s in _so_ much trouble though. Just you wait. He better call us as soon as he gets to a phone. He better-,”

“Wakka’s mother says,” Sora will answer, speaking slower, and quieter, than anyone would believe him capable of, “That that city eats people.”

The words will startle Kairi into a silence, so grim and matter-of-fact. Then her expression will crumble, into one of sorrow, and she will reach out a hand to pull her fingers through Sora’s hair.

“Oh Sora,” she sighs, even as he stares forward towards the smudge of darkness on the horizon, the intensity in his gaze unprecedented.

Later, Kairi will blame herself for not noticing, not realizing. She will remember the look on Sora’s face, and think, how could she not have known?

How could she not have known?

How could she not have known that he would follow?

\--

People in the town will look back and think, twelve, it was twelve, he was twelve when he finally snapped. When he finally had enough.

In truth, Riku had had enough from the time he learned to speak. From the time he learned how to want, how to ask for things, and how to have everything he asked for denied.

The world behind the glass, behind the closed doors. The place where the sun shone, where the rain beat down. Where other people walked, and laughed, and ran, and lived. His fingertips pressed against the cold window, his eyes wide, more with hunger than with longing, and his gaze snapped away only by his parents’ firm hands. Pulling him, always pulling him, further and further.

He learns to speak, and to ask for things, and the answer is always ‘No.’ And the reason is always ‘To keep you safe. For your own good.’

He has no blocks to build with, because the corners are sharp. The stuffed toys are bought and thrown out twice a month, because the synthetic fur holds germs and dirt too easily. He watches t.v. in timed intervals, so as not to effect his eyes.

But he watches enough t.v. to know the way he is living is wrong.

People in the town will think, it was twelve, twelve was when he snapped. But he was six, truly. And the only reason he didn’t keep running, didn’t sprint through the town and past the town for as long as legs would carry him, was because he met two people. Two people who made him smile, a feat no longer easily accomplished. And laugh, a near impossibility. Who crowded close to him when Sora’s mother found them, and demanded they all be taken out for ice cream before they were sent home. Friends, his first and only friends. Dirty hands clutching to each other, breathless and grinning up into the summer heat.

Twelve is not the year he had enough. Twelve is not the year he decided he had to leave.

Twelve is simply the year when he realized Sora and Kairi were not enough to keep him from going.

\--

Riku had taken Tidus’s car. Because Tidus was going to scrap it, having inherited from his parents who had no use for it, and finding that he, himself, had no use for it. He was going to use the money to buy a new gaming system, and the money that Riku gave him to buy the car more than covered that.

Why Riku wanted the car, anyone could guess with relative ease, which is why he left the same day he bought it, before Tidus had even made it to the electronics store. He left, leaving a cloud on the dusty road, and people saw him go, saw him drive out, and shook their heads. It was six years coming, they’d think, since he was twelve. It’s been six years coming, and now he’s finally gone.

His parents are distraught, near inconsolable, and it takes the Mayor himself to convince them not to go after him. Both of them are in their sixties now, far too old to be searching a huge city for one teenage boy. Far too old to risk Hollow Bastion.

Riku’s a smart boy, everyone will say, good head on his shoulders. Just a little restless. He’ll stay away from anything untoward, and get that wanderlust out of his system. Then he’ll come right home, just you wait.

_That city eats people,_ Wakka’s mother once said to Sora, when he was barely eleven and didn’t feel the full weight of her words. But now he feels them, settling on his heart, collapsing his chest inwards and making it harder to inhale and exhale and inhale.

Sora doesn’t have a car. He doesn’t have as much money in the bank as Riku does. Parent-supplied credit cards, weekly allowance, all the things parents give to their teenagers to try and keep them content, keep them from running. He has none of those things, because his parents don’t see him as the type to run. And also, because his parents don’t see him very much at all.

He has none of those things. Just a friend who is gone, to a gaping maw full of rows of jagged teeth, and the wails of its victims; the people it eats. The lost hopes and the world without dreams.

What Sora is not lacking in is determination, and strength, from helping out on Tidus’s farm and Wakka’s farm and everywhere else he’s needed. He packs a bag, water and light foods, and walks. Because he does not have a car, or money, but he has feet, and he has a place he needs to be, and a friend he needs to find.

_Come home,_ he says to himself, to the Riku who can’t hear him, _Come home._

But Riku never will, not on his own, so Sora goes, takes his two feet, and walks.

\--

Their town is one of the many dotted across the rural landscape. Small and surrounded by farms, barely sustained by its own produce and fowl, hemmed in by the tangle of roads and nearby highways. Mostly undisturbed, painfully aware of its own insignificance, and subdued by the mass of darkness and skyscrapers in the distance.

Hollow Bastion- the city along the distant coast. Incomparable in its size and wealth. A booming population, industry and trade. Commonly misinterpreted as a place of opportunity, as cities so often are, but spoken of in hushed terms. Nervous glances.

_Bad things happen there,_ are the whispered words. What things, are never said. There is a silence that is imposed by its mere existence. A darkness on the horizon that never fades, never goes with the rising sun.

_Bad things happen there,_ the voices will whisper. But they will never say what things. Whisper and look, nervously, but never say.

Kairi asks her father if he has ever been there, once, when she’s almost eleven. When Riku is twelve, and has just had what will become a historic shouting match with his parents, ending in him leaving home for the rest of the year, staying in places they can’t find him. When he spends the days in Kairi’s rooms, out of sight of her tutors, and spends the colder nights in Sora’s bed, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

It is on one of these nights that Kairi asks the Mayor, if he has ever been there. Because, because. He is her father, the bravest man she knows, by default. And he is also Mayor, a leader. If the city in the distance is the evil forest, the place where the witches and the dragons are, than the Mayor is more qualified than anyone to be the hero who has braved its depths. Who goes and conquers and returns.

But his response is not affirmation, but is immediate, and curt.

“Goodness no,” he says firmly, a look of alarm in his eyes, “And with any luck, I never will. Why do you ask?”

Kairi shrugs, says there’s no reason, and turns away, back to her homework.

She doesn’t say that Riku, she thinks, wants to go there. That he thinks the city is a place he can escape to, and his parents will never dare follow. That Riku does not care about bad things happening, because all he cares about is his own freedom, and all that he does not have.

_Bad things happen here,_ the words recite themselves in Kairi’s mind, and for a moment there is a face in front of her, framed by blue hair and with eyes sad. Eyes so, so, _sad._

The image is gone, and she blinks, then grips her pencil, tight.

_Did I come from there?_ Is the question she is too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know the answer to. _Did I come from that place?_ Her wisping, intangible memories are the answer. Fleeting, fleeting. Impossible to keep a hold on. Slippery like ice; held for an instant and then popping out of her grasp, lost.

She tries to keep Riku’s attention during the day, steer his eyes away from the window that they always turn towards. Hold his hand and anchor him, touch his hair and anchor him.

But he is always staring. Staring, staring. Even after he reconciles with his parents, return to their home, in body if not in spirit. When they start paying him to stay, with credit cards and sound systems and anything he asks for. Even then he’s staring, staring.

Staring for years. Until he’s gone.

No one ever says what the bad things _are,_ and that’s scarier to Kairi than anything else. The city is a forest of darkness, waiting for travellers to stray onto it paths. To gobble them up, Sora would say, dead serious. No one speaks about Hollow Bastion in straight terms. It’s all metaphors and similes. It _eats_ people. But what does that mean? _Bad things._ But what are they? What things happen there?

She is afraid for Riku, but she doesn’t know what she’s afraid _of,_ and that’s more frustrating than anything else.

That’s her goal, in that short stretch of time where she doesn’t have Riku but still has Sora, to uncover the mystery of Hollow Bastion. To know just what it is that Riku is up against. In that short time, that is what she’s focused on discovering.

But then Sora goes, surprising everyone, even her (though it shouldn’t have), and the identity of ‘the bad things’ no longer seem to matter. The city shrouded in darkness and mystery, impermeable, and without exit. Both of her boys have gone there and, Kairi decides, it doesn’t matter what exists within it. Because she is going too.

It takes her awhile though. Because her father is watching her closely and she has no way to get there. No way to close the distance. No one’s sure how Sora went. Because his parents rode out after him, for a few miles, and there was no sign of him walking, and what other means did he have to go? What other means are available to Kairi, who knows she doesn’t have the strength to walk out into the distance with nothing but hope to guide her?

It’s a month after Sora goes that _he_ rides into town, Axel, stopping for gas on his way to Hollow Bastion, and she screws up her courage and asks him to take her, bold as brass. He looks at her like he’s grown another head, and laughs, and leers, tries to drive her away with dirty looks and foul words.

‘There are people I need to find,” she says forcefully, pushing bravery into her voice that she doesn’t quite feel. Refusing to budge, to be intimidated.

‘Well, I know what that’s like,’ he concedes, dryly, ‘But the answer is still no.’

She convinces him eventually, when she realizes that trying to pay him in expensive jewelry just insults him, and when she loses it and yells, screaming till she’s red.

‘If you don’t take me,’ she spits, ‘I’ll just walk, and they’ll find me in a ditch, and it will be entirely on _your_ conscience.’

‘The only one responsible for your actions is yourself,” he says, unruffled, but there’s a new look in his eye, and he rubs at his face with one gloved hands. It takes more canoodling, more arguing, and a promise that she’ll pay for her own food and he won’t be charged with kidnapping. But she gets him, she gets him.

‘Why do I get stuck with all the stubborn brats,’ he mutters, and Kairi knows she’s won.

The bad things don’t matter. They don’t matter, what they are doesn’t matter. She’s going, going. To find the boys who left her behind.

(Later, Axel will say ‘You’ll die if you don’t’ and Kairi will think, _ah, so that’s one of the bad things,_ with more relief than trepidation)

(unknowing is so much worse than knowing)

\--

When he turns twelve he breaks his self-imposed promise not to ask his parents for anything. Because he knows how that goes. It’s always easier just to go and get what he wants, if it’s possible, and apologize later. Or not apologize. It depends.

When he is twelve, he has decided he’s old enough to ask to stop being babied, and not be brushed aside. He’s not a teenager yet, but he’s not a child. Not at twelve.

He asks to go to school.

He and Kairi are both homeschooled, and Kairi doesn’t mind, because she has a variety of tutors. Different people, sometimes changing from year to year. And they let her go to the nearby middle school for lunch and recess, so that she can socialize, so that she’s not completely isolated.

Riku is taught by his parents, and only his parents, and is sick of it.

So he asks, if next year, the last year of middle school, he can go to public school. He would have waited until high school, but he thinks it’s unwise to jump from homeschool straight into high school. He’s watched enough television to know that that’s unwise.

But his parents (his _parents_ ) are adamant, almost panicked in their swift denial of his request. _Homeschool is best,_ they say, _you’ll understand when you’re older. Trust us._

Trust them.

“This is all I want,” he says, his voice shaking, “I don’t want to be stuck in here anymore.”

Because he made friends with Sora and Kairi when he was six, and still it was a battle. He would be let out for playdates at Kairi’s, but never at Sora’s, so they’d have to coordinate, to get Sora at Kairi’s at the same time. And when his parents found out that Kairi’s nannies let them play out in the backyard, amidst the bugs and the dirt, they stopped letting him visit her as well.

But by then, Riku knew better than to stop when their approval stopped. He simply left when their backs were turned. He played soccer in the street with Sora, returned home with dirty feet and scraped knees and an unapologetic expression.

He’d go swimming with Kairi, return home with hair dripping and not a hint of shame for the worry he caused.

Parents were told to be on lookout for him, to return him home if they ever saw him out, but there was a degree of pity held for the child that had been shut up indoors for most of his life, which managed to outshine the pity for his overprotective, aging parents.

His skin went from sallow to deeply tanned, and his mother fussed about UV rays, heat stroke and skin cancer. They childlocked the doors, and he jumped from the upstairs window, shimmying down the tree that grew beside it. They childlocked the windows and cut down the tree, and Riku seethed, imprisoned, until he turned ten and they let him visit Kairi again, but only when the Mayo was present. It expanded, in time, so that he could play with Sora if it was with Tidus and Wakka, or rather, with Tidus or Wakka’s parents. Neither of these rules were followed, but no one ratted him out, and his parents existed in a tense sort of relief. Relief that maybe, they didn’t have to panic every time their son steps out the door.

But he is a prisoner, there is no mistake. There is no relaxation of the rules inside the house. The constant fussing, the talking down to him, like he doesn’t understand anything, treating him like he’s less than a child. Like he’s an infant, that needs to be swaddled and treated like porcelain.

When Riku is twelve, he asks to no longer be homeschooled, and the response is so immediate, final, and condescending, that he sees red.

He’s never able to remember exactly what he said to them, that day. He knows he drops a couple of swearwords, just to see the horror on their faces. He knows he lets everything that's been built up inside of him spill out, and he knows that he at least tells them something along the lines of ‘you better make it official and attach a ball and chain to my leg. You’ll never keep me here otherwise’.

His birthday is in November, and he spends the next two months away from home. At Kairi’s, at Sora’s. He stays out of sight of the mayor, and bumps into Sora’s parents occasionally, but their gazes slide away from him, as if not noticing he’s there. He thinks that’s pretty cool of them, initially, but he learns that it’s the same way they look at Sora most days, a sliding gaze, and he starts to hate them almost as much as he hates his own parents.

It lasts until January, when the mayor rats him out and calls his parents while he’s in Kairi’s room, Sora’s head in his lap and Kairi’s head on his shoulder, all of them crowded onto her bed and watching a movie.

His parents enter without knocking, because they don’t, and never have, understand how children work, and all three of them jump away from each other. Riku tenses and swears, and Kairi and Sora both turn bright red. 

But then Kairi and Sora crowd against him, the same way they did underneath that cart all those summers ago, and give his parents matching stares. From behind them, the Mayor asks Sora and Kairi to give Riku and his parents some privacy. But Sora doesn’t budge, not an inch, and Kairi looks at her father nervously, before looking at Riku, then Sora, then her father again, shaking her head.

So they’re all present, when they outline the new rules of his imprisonment. Riku’s parents promise more freedom, promise to be less oppressive, say they’ll let him go to school even, just to see if it works out.

But that’s not enough, anymore. Riku knows now, knows deep in his soul, that he will never be happy in that house. And he knows, that no matter where he runs in this town, eventually, his parents will drag him back.

The first night back in that house, in his room, he presses his face against the glass and stares outwards, to the dark smudge of the city, far off in the distance.

_People get lost there,_ his father had once told him.

_Good,_ Riku thinks, heart thundering in his chest, _good._

\--

The people who picked him up off the side of the road were loud, initially. Bickering good-naturedly, arguing over the radio station and the fastest route to take. The one driving, too tall for the small car, with dark skin and long legs and long arms and a kind face, marred only by the discoloured skin around his mouth. And the one in the passenger seat, short and prone to high-pitched screaming, hair blonde-white beneath his blue hat, eyes watery and a piercing black. He was loud by default, but his companion laughed loudly, a hearty guffaw that echoed around the car, spurred by the most unlikely things.

They were adamant that Sora keep smiling, that ill humour wasn’t allowed in their car, and he manages it. Manages to twist his lips upwards, because he’s going towards the place that Riku has gone to. Is going to bring him home. And that’s a happy enough thought. No matter how scared he is, finding Riku is a happy enough thought. And the two men who gave him a ride are loud and distracting enough, talking about all sorts of things and stories about their children and nephews and lives, that his mind is pulled away from the enormity of what he’s done. Riding with strangers towards the city he’s been told never to enter. Without a dime to his name. Their constant banter soothes those fears, just enough to keep Sora smiling.

They fall silent, however, as the city becomes more than a smudge on the horizon. The laughter and the banter stop, as it looms in front of them. As the shady outline becomes distinguishable as a mass of buildings, reaching upwards. As the air grows thick with smog, the acrid scent of fumes and smoke. As the roads grow fuller, a mass of cars all heading in one direction. A far smaller amount heading away.

“Y’sure this is where y’want to go?” asks the driver, who never gave his name, but who his companion addresses only as ‘Goof’. He looks at him in the rearview mirror, and the other man, Donald, turns his head as well, scowling.

“Don’t start second guessing now!” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips, “It’s too late anyways! Look, we’re here! Don’t even think about turning around you Goof, we’re already here! The kid’s made his choice, don’t start making him question it! It will just make things worse in the long run.”

A shiver runs down Sora’s spine, and he finds his mouth suddenly dry. But he nods once, and then says, forcefully, “This is still where I want to go. Please.”

Donald and Goof exchange a glance, before Goof returns his gaze to the road, brown skin of his hands white around the knuckles, where he clutches the steering wheel.

“Good,” growls Donald, “Because we’re here.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah. I was never going to post this on here because I doubt I'm ever going to continue it. but. here it is. I feel like I need to answer for my lack of posting/updating fic. I've been writing guys. Just...nothing post-worthy.


End file.
